Author: R.

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com.

This is Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.

We’ve got stories by:

• Jeffrey
• Tura Brezoianu
• Charlie
• Richard
• Tom
• Lizzie
• Serendipity
• Munsi
• Norval Joe
• Danny Dwyer
• Planet Z

JEFFREY

Camp Counselor
by Jeffrey Fischer

Many teens complained about the camp counselor job, but Randy thought it was great. Sure, six-year-olds exhibited separation anxiety, fussed at everything, and were constantly in a vicious circle of drinking juice and peeing. Randy had a secret weapon, however.

Around ten a.m. he would ask his charges, “Who wants to have an adventure?” Amid squeals of delight, he would set half the group to hide near the barn and the other half to hide around the boatyard. (No one ever thought it was odd that everyone hid and no one sought.) Shortly before parents arrived to pick up their precious cargo, Randy would find and wake each of the kids. It never failed to give him a full day to himself.

The Job
by Jeffrey Fischer

The former Ranger scared the crap out of us his first day on the job when he rappelled up the building and swung into the office, spraying glass everywhere. “Hi, I’m Ted.”

The next week, Ted caught Gladys stealing food from the refrigerator. He had her spread-eagled on her stomach and secured her arms with plastic ties until the department supervisor arrived.

When I next saw Ted, he was securing his commando knife in its sheath before his raid on the IT department. I took Ted aside. “Look, man, every employer has its own culture. You’ve got to try to fit in.”

Ted looked perplexed. “What are you saying?”

“Around here, we take the elevator, we don’t hog-tie fat grandmothers, and we don’t slit the throats of IT guys just to get a printer. This isn’t the Army. It’s not an adventure, it’s just a job.”

TURA

Adventure
———
“Mother isn’t coming, is she?” said my son suddenly.

I’d been putting this off, but it couldn’t be avoided any more.

“No. No, she isn’t,” I said at last. “There are some bad men after me. They found your mother…”

He would cry later, but not yet.

“So this is an adventure,” he said. “But…” I waited for him to complete the thought. “Not a story adventure. We don’t know how it turns out.”

“Yes. We just have to make it turn out as best we can.”

We slipped out to the car, and drove off into the silent night.
———

CHARLIE

An adventure gone undone, or sloppily executed is an adventure gone to waste. My adventures are planned with care and deliberation. I consult with experts to plan the simplest adventure. A trip to the other end of the county calls for a check of the running gear on my vehicle, a packed lunch, and water and snacks for the pooch. It also calls for quick message to my personal assistant to remind her to look in on the dogs, check for open windows and doors, and to trigger interior lighting after sundown, including the bank of halogens on the garage.

Second

The reason for my performance-related panic is due to the fact that I suffer from severe, late onset, anxiety disorder, which makes simple adventures or interactions like strolling down the street a disproportionately tensile experience. One of the signifiers of social anxiety is a heightened sense of alertness. The sound of skateboard wheels whirring around the street corner creates a sliver of unease. A bike bell ringing behind me causes me to grit my teeth and raise my iron-tipped cane in order to ready myself for a strike across the rider’s brow, or a quick jab at the bikes spokes.

Third

Her mother named her Adventure. Adventura, formally, but shortened when she started middle school. She was a tomboy. Wearing low-top sneakers, a scraggly ponytail, and a baggy T-shirt—one of the many outfits in her tomboy oeuvre. She avoided tattoos and any piercings because of her ancestry, and her grandmother, who thought they were disfiguring, disgusting, dumb and dull. Adventure didn’t need anything to decorate her body but her shiny, spellbinding eyes, and her mysterious smile. To say the least, she was a tall, thin, knockout. All the boys loved her. The girls loved her, and the gods loved her.

RICHARD

#1 – Out of the Frying Pan

Laggins was not a happy hobbit!

His ruse to replace the Chalice of Eternal Power with his favourite mug had completely failed to fool the wizard, or any other members of their little group.

“I told you I wasn’t cut out for adventure!” He protested; “You tricked me into joining your stupid quest and now you’re complaining because I’m not up to the job! Well… If you’re that interested in dragons and gold, you can damn well go yourself!”

“Fair enough”, said the wizard, “We’ll go – you guard the camp alone… watch out for the goblins and trolls though!”

#2 – Antihero

Why is it that in the movies being in the wrong place at the wrong time always leads to a great adventure?

In my experience, it tends to lead to a whole load of grief, plenty of shouting, and – all too frequently – real physical pain.

I’m just not made from the ‘Right Stuff’ – I’m not at all heroic, tend to avoid trouble at all costs, and if I do happen to find myself in the wrong place at the wrong time, I’ll do whatever it takes to get the hell out of there as fast as possible.

#3 – Infomercial

Life is full of disappointments.

As a child, I felt badly let down by the local ‘Adventure Playground’ – there were no bloodthirsty sharks, pirates, magical mazes or lost cities to explore – just a couple of rope swings, some monkey bars and a crappy slide.

To my young mind, it was overrated hype – a triumph of advertising over reality.

Today, I realise I was being taught a valuable life lesson. Few things measure up to the expectation and the world is full of con artists out to sell you a lie.

The trouble is, we still believe it.

TOM

Max is your Man

The advertisement in the London Times read as follows: ADVENTURE in 20 point Garamond. No follow up address, nor an establishing phone to ring up. Max checked the ad section over the next three weeks and found the same single word reaching out and grabbing his attention. On a whim Max head down to the Times Advertisement Department. A rather crumbed clerk at the desk met his eye. Max replied: ADVENTURE. The Clerk drew a revolver and point it at his head. “Are you quite sure of that young master?” said the clerk. Totally unflustered Max said, “Quite So.”

LIZZIE

The tracking adventure ended abruptly when Lana tripped and fell off a cliff. Instead of the expected anguished agitation, her tracking companions looked down in silence.

“She was never good at this.”

The others shook their heads.

“Should we try to fetch her?”

The others shook their heads.

“Look for help?”

The others shook their heads. And they stood there for a while.

A cell-phone rang.

“It’s Lana’s. Should I answer?”

The others shook their heads. And they continued their tracking adventure.

“Good thing we paused a bit up there. I was getting out of breath.”

The others nodded enthusiastically.

SERENDIPITY

Love’s great adventure turned out to be something of a disappointment – a bit of a misadventure, if you ask me.

Over the last twenty years, I’m sure we’d both considered divorce; maybe even quietly despatching each other with a dose of rat poison, when things became a little heated.

But you don’t… you knuckle down, accept that this is how things are, and count your blessings.

Twenty years – even twenty sad, uninspiring years – merit some sort of celebration.

So, here we are: food, wine, candles, flowers, soppy cards and tired smiles.

(Did I mention the rat poison?)

MUNSI

Adventure!

By Chris Munroe

Life’s an adventure.

Insomuch as you’re stranded on a rock hurtling through space faster than you can possibly comprehend around an atomic furnace that’s constantly exploding.

Life, however, is NOT an adventure insomuch as you, probably, spend much of it doing the same things over and over, both at work and in your “free” time, out of habit rather than genuine desire to partake in said activities, whatever they might be in your particular case.

So, yeah, mixed bag.

If the first thing’s good enough for you, hooray! If not, responsibility to create additional adventure is yours, and yours alone…

NORVAL JOE

My daughter didn’t want to do anything this summer besides talk to her friends on skype and play minecraft.
Ignoring her heated protests, I signed her up for the Isosceles Logic Adventure Camp.
Had I known they would spend eight hours a day for five days doing nothing more than playing sudoku, I probably wouldn’t have signed her up.
It turned out okay and all the kids really got into this Japanese puzzle that actually was developed in America.
They had an intense tournament on the last day of camp and my daughter ended up a second degree black belt.

DANNY

I’ve been listening to the videos of “The Cars” on YouTube allot lately, and I’ve come to two conclusions. One, If I were as good looking as Benjamin Orr, Branka Petrovic would be attracted to me, and two, if Benjamin Orr never saw a doctor, he would have never died of Pancreatic Cancer in 2000. I get it, you feel severe pains in your stomach, time to see a doctor. But where is the sense of adventure? What the hell, I’m going to die anyway. I remain convinced, if I to refuse to see a doctor, I’ll live longer than expected.

PLANET Z

Long ago, I owned an Atari game console.
The graphics were basic and crude. Just colored blocks, really.
One of my favorite games was Adventure.
You were a simple block that sought a rudimentary chalice.
Navigating the maze, you had to avoid dragons.
I remember my heart racing as I dodged their attacks.
The sword was just a simple crude arrow, but it sure killed those dragons.
These days, with the complicated controls and intense 3D 4K graphics, you’d think I’d be lost in these worlds.
It’s too overwhelming for me.
I slide in the Adventure cartridge, and power on.

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com.

This is Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.

We’ve got stories by:

• Jeffrey
• Charlie
• Serendipity
• Richard
• Lizzie
• Zackmann
• Tom
• Norval Joe
• Danny Dwyer
• Tura Brezoianu
• Munsi
• Planet Z

JEFFREY

Earthquake
by Jeffrey Fischer

Eight floors up, the shaking was noticeable if not alarming. Heads peeked out of offices and above cubicle walls to find out what was happening. West Coast natives knew the signs of an earthquake but couldn’t believe one might be happening in DC, while East Coast natives searched for explanations. Mine was that a particularly obnoxious driver, stuck at the light down below, had a powerful stereo.

Fire alarms clanged and everyone made the slow procession down the stairwells, out of the building. As we stood in the shadows of the skyscrapers, we wondered why it was safer to risk being hit by debris falling off facades than to remain inside. Still, outside on a sunny, temperate afternoon was not the worst place to be.

The Hideout
by Jeffrey Fischer

The building specs showed nine floors above ground and two underground, which made the set of stairs heading down from the sub-basement and the locked door at the bottom all the more mysterious. Vic opened the lock with what Ellen was sure were illegal picks and the pair crept through the doorway.

Inside, the firm’s top executives sat in plush armchairs, sipping drinks out of crystal goblets. “Oh ho, Jackson,” one said, “We’ve been discovered.” The company CEO waved a decanter. “Care to join us? We’re enjoying a lovely glass of Proletarian Tears. Vintage 2013, if I’m not mistaken.” The senior VP chimed in, “An especially good year. We fired 20% of the work force. Tears of fired employees taste the sweetest.”

CHARLIE

The building was vacant a long time. Squatters had taken over, including a dozen meth zombies, heroin addicts, and retired circus clowns. The clowns were insidious, to such an extent that the addicts left…no longer able to handle the insanity, vulgar antics and games of the clown posse. One of their favorite parlor games was to play “shoot twixt wind and water.” It involved a game between the male and female clowns. My shyness and the propriety of this forum prevents further description. The clowns also enjoyed demonstrating how to “have one’s corn ground”, a popular game of the 1800’s.

Second

Building a strong coalition of writers was her current goal. She put the word out using social media, and via her BLOG. Soon, a dozen writers joined her stable of regular contributors. She helped them find venues for publishing, and lined up open mic nights for poets and writers to read their work. She had some rules. Some of them necessary, some frivolous. Writers had to submit all work in the Comic Sans font, avoid French derived verbs, never write in the first or second person nor take any manner or stand on religious, political, artistic, or second amendment matters.

Third

Her build put the Dymaxion structures of Buckminster Fuller to shame…built like a modular, fire-clay, outdoor lavatory, she could sing and she could dance, but all she had to do was make herself available for dates, and her future was assured. She started dating a fellow that was very powerful and rich. Cranston was tired, and forty years her senior. Laurie let him kiss her if he used Lavoris and wiped his mouth. No tongue, no lingering. He could touch her on top, but not below. The old gent was grateful, and showered her with gifts and a generous pre-nup.

RICHARD

William

William’s life had always been miserable. He blamed his parents – how on earth could they have been so thoughtless? But, maybe society in general was just as much at fault.

Despite his misfortune, he made something of his life – leaving behind the torment of schooldays, and setting up his own successful business. Even so, he was never really happy with his lot.

Eventually he concluded a change was necessary: He completed the paperwork, paid the fee and left the Registrar’s office with a smile on his face.

Hello Bill Smith, and good riddance to the hated Bill Ding!

SERENDIPITY

All my neighbours think I’m a DIY nut – she’s always building they say, have you seen all the work she’s done on that house?

They do have a point; the place has changed considerably since when I first moved in. My first venture was filling in the cellar – that took some time, not what you’d call an overnight job, but some things you just can’t rush.

I’ve bricked up the odd fireplace, and rebuilt some of the old plasterboard walls.

My latest project is a new patio… Working on the foundations now: Just need a few more bodies!

LIZZIE

They say building your own house is an empowering experience, buying your own lumber, your own nails, your own tools. Matt especially enjoyed his fuel-powered chainsaw with a ground breaking design; it was absolutely amazing. And no one was allowed to touch it. Yes, the others got splinters stuck in their eyes, fingers hammered till they were black and blue, but the fun it was to saw those logs was unbeatable. However, when someone saws a hand off by mistake, that can be a bloody mess. In the waiting-room of the hospital, Matt sighed. “Good thing it wasn’t my hand…”

ZACKMANN

“Have you seen the ghost?” asked the cleaning woman.

“No, but thanks for giving me something to think about before leaving me alone in the building for the rest of the night.” replied the security officer.

“Someone died here, you know.”
“Oh, I’m sure someone died everywhere by now and every business in California big enough to have security is haunted because whoever leaves me alone for the remainder of the night always tells me they are. I have concluded that if anyplace I work has been haunted the ghosts didn’t mind having someone around to call the fire department.”

TOM

Building a Stronger America, Not

Some may argue that the 80s was the most eclectic decade of the pre-post human era. For your consideration I offer Talking Heads. Hands down the best cover of Take Me To The River. More Songs About Building and Food its sort of an anti-soundtrack to a anti-life. Even the cover art is way cool ins a sub zero sense. Anything but a head shot which is the joke a guess on you if you weren’t paying attention. Damn near wore the vinyl out on side two. I love saying side two. Thank God for CDs. Once in a life time.

We Just Did Stuff

I lament the loss of building that this generation of youts must endure. No opportunity to build tree houses, or forest forts if you prefer. The Boomers had enough scrape lumber to build may small cities. Midnight Requisition frown upon by parents was tolerated by construction worker as long as you didn’t get greedy. Our best structure was four stories. Granted each floor was 5 to 3 feet tall. Pretty Cool. We never had a blue print, we never had a drawing, we never had a plan. All we had was about a thousand nails. Couldn’t do that today.

NORVAL JOE

I understand now that I tried to the enter the self publishing world backwards.
I just went out there and released my book on Kindle and Create Space expecting people to find it and buy it.
I should have spent several months before the book launch building my platform.
I’m already preparing my platform for a book I am just outlining.
It’s a non-fiction, self-help book, called, “Why You’re Smarter than the Next Guy, and How You can Profit By It.”
I’m starting a facebook page for egocentric sociopaths looking for ways to develop passive income without working for it.

DANNY

What the hell am I building when I surround myself with negativity all the time? I gave up my practice to work for someone who calls me stupid because I’m losing my hearing. I have to agree, I am stupid. I’m stupid for following someone so negative, who clearly has an anger problem, who has taken every shred of pride I used to have against me, and screams at the top of his lungs about how worthless I am. It’s about time I questioned the people I call friends in my life. Because quite frankly, they are tearing me down.

TURA

Building
———
You wish to visit the Palace? No, sir, this great building is merely its gatehouse.

But beware! Further on the road you will come to a far greater building, bustling with seeming activity, and will take that to be the palace. But that is the second gatehouse, inhabited only by mechanical puppets.

After that will be a third, vaster and more convincing still, and a fourth.

You cannot reach the palace. The procession is endless. Some say that its Architect waits at the end. But I think He is trapped there, waiting for the one who will unravel His magic.

MUNSI

How to Build

By Christopher Munroe

One piece at a time, focusing on the one, until a unified whole emerges.

THIS is how to build a thing, whether a structure, work of art, or a life, one piece upon another, focusing on the piece at hand, trying not to worry what the next might bring.

Trust each piece.

Trust yourself.

Your structure, your life, WILL with time emerge…

Or: Make a detailed plan, in advance, thinking things through and planning for any eventuality, then follow that plan.

But I’ve never been able to do that.

So one piece at a time it shall have to be…

PLANET Z

Some say that a church is just another building, but there’s something special about a church.
It’s a community hub, where families come together, or singles can find other like-minded singles.
It’s a place of sanctuary, especially for illegal immigrants. I mean undocumented workers, because, I’m sure my paperwork is in here somewhere.
It’s somewhere to park when you don’t really trust the valet at the restaurant next door.
And it’s the last place where the cops will look for a hydroponic grow room.
The pastor’s glaucoma’s gotten really bad this year. Or so he says.
Would a priest lie?

Music: http://www.bensound.com/royalty-free-music